The Japanese Devil Fish Girl (16 page)

BOOK: The Japanese Devil Fish Girl
5.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘Opinions in England vary,’ said Professor Coffin, ‘as to what she actually is. Some say a mermaid, others some kind of exotic being the like of which has never been viewed in the West. If you do have her here we would very much like to see her.’
 
‘Would you now?’ said P. T. Barnum. ‘Would you now indeed?’
 
‘Yes, sir, very much so,’ said George.
 
Professor Coffin nodded.
 
‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Phineas Taylor Barnum, emptying the remaining contents of his glass into his mouth and swallowing them back, ‘I have been more than sixty years in this profession and I have met with every variety of shyster, double-dealer, sleight-of-hand merchant, huckster and bamboozler, but few of them could indeed hold a candle to you two gentlemen. The subtle charm of the English, is it? Well now, there’s a thing.’
 
‘I fail to understand your words,’ said George.
 
‘I fear that I do all too well,’ Professor Coffin replied.
 
‘And I,’ said P. T. Barnum, rising from behind his desk now and taking up a sword that it was said had once belonged to Major Robert E. Lee, ‘must applaud your audacity and indeed your ingenuity. How was it done, eh? You somehow sabotaged the workings of my Pneumatic Pedestrian Perambulator, that you might be on hand to save me and then inveigle yourselves into my confidence? What?’
 
‘Nothing of the sort, sir,’ said George, all bewildered. ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’
 
‘Oh really?’ cried Barnum. ‘Oh really? I think rather that you would seek to steal from me the Greatest Showman’s Treasure of this or any other age.’
 
‘Then you do have her,’ said Professor Coffin.
 
‘What I have or do not have is nothing of your business. Leave my premises at once or I will summon my monkey butler Charles to fling you into the street.’
 
Another monkey butler
, thought George, with a certain envy.
 
‘Out!’ shouted Mr Barnum. ‘Villains! Footpads! Outlaws! Rustlers!’ And he waved his sword.
 
‘This is all a big mistake,’ said George.
 
‘Let it lie, my friend,’ said the professor. ‘The game is up for us, we must make a dignified retreat. My apologies to you, Mr Barnum. We were foolhardy to think that we could ever pull any wool over your observant eyes. That you would be aware of such obfustication should have been obvious to us. We shall take our leave now and trouble you no more. Come, George.’
 
‘But—’ went George.
 
‘Come, George!’
 
George Fox rose from his elephant-foot stool and bowed his head before the master showman.
 
‘We did not mean to trick you in any way, sir,’ he said. ‘We only wanted to know whether you had the Japanese Devil Fish Girl in your employ or not. Surely that is not so outrageous.’
 
‘Out!’ cried Mr Barnum. ‘Out!’
 
‘Quite so,’ said the professor, backing towards the door. ‘Sorry to have bothered you. Goodbye and a fond farewell.’
 
‘This is ridiculous,’ said George, but he too backed towards the door before the waving sword.
 
At the office door things became a little more confusing for George. He and the professor became somehow jammed into the opening. George could not for the life of him understand how, given the size of the opening, the two of them had become so jammed. It was almost as if the professor was doing the jamming on purpose.
 
P. T. Barnum stormed towards them, swinging his sword on high. George became suddenly aware of the words, ‘Drop to your knees, George,’ being hoarsely whispered into his ear by the professor. And George in an almost instinctive manner dropped straight to his knees.
 
Then there was confusion and tumbling as P. T. Barnum tripped over George and fell forwards into the corridor, dropping his sword, which Professor Coffin kicked beyond his reach. Then there was a considerable struggle as Professor Coffin leapt onto the prone showman and bestraddled his chest, pinioning his arms and restraining him in a most undignified manner.
 
George stared on in disbelief as Professor Coffin now produced a slim glass phial from his waistcoat, carefully unscrewed the cap and then held it to the nose of Mr Barnum.
 
‘We are going to return to your office now,’ said Professor Coffin to the now non-struggling showman, ‘and there you will tell us everything that you know about the Japanese Devil Fish Girl. Do you understand me, Mr Barnum?’
 
Mr P. T. Barnum nodded. ‘Everything I know,’ said he.
 
17
 
T
hey returned to Phineas Barnum’s office, and George was most perplexed. Mr Barnum moved like an automaton. All stiff-legged and staring ahead, he crossed to his ample desk, then dropped into his chair like a sack of potatoes.
 
‘Whatever have you done to him?’ George asked of the professor.
 
Professor Coffin counselled silence. ‘Just leave this to me. Please close the office door, George. And I spy a key on this side, so kindly lock it also.’
 
George did as he was bid, with much shaking of his head, and some worries too, for what was going on here seemed altogether odd.
 
‘Sit down, George,’ Professor Coffin told him. ‘I don’t want you to miss any of this. It might prove most important.’
 
George reseated himself upon the elephant-foot stool and looked on as Professor Coffin settled down once more into the green leather swivel chair and spoke across the desk to Mr Barnum.
 
‘It would please me, sir,’ said he, ‘if you would now tell George and I everything that you know about the Japanese Devil Fish Girl. Omit nothing. Tell us
everything
.’
 
The great showman’s eyes looked glazed and sightless.
 
Softly then he cleared his throat. ‘I will tell you everything,’ he said. ‘I have kept this terrible secret for too long – I will be glad to tell you the tale.’
 
Professor Coffin nodded. ‘Tell your tale to us,’ he said.
 
The eyes of P. T. Barnum seemed to focus, as upon some far and distant point. ‘So long ago,’ he said, ‘so very long ago . . . I have, as you know, lived a long and extraordinary life in my chosen profession. I believe that I have eclipsed all those who have gone before me in the world of showmanship. I have presented to the public many unique attractions and all of the very special people that I have exhibited have profited from their professional relationships with me. I—’
 
But Professor Coffin raised his hand. ‘I am well aware of your venerable career – I own a copy of your autobiography. Please speak only upon the subject that I requested you to speak of. The Japanese Devil Fish Girl.’
 
‘There are always rumours,’ said P. T. Barnum, ‘in the showman’s world, of some great attraction, far greater than all the rest. Always beyond the next hill, in the next country, far across the next ocean. In the area upon the old maps that reads “HERE BE DRAGONS”. I first heard of the being of which you speak whilst I was in Oregon. There is a mysterious area there, a few miles from Grants Pass, that is known as the Oregon Vortex. A weird magnetic geographical anomaly, where gravity plays tricks with you and nothing is quite what it seems. I was considering the idea of purchasing the area and opening it to the American public as the Strangest Place on Earth. It was there that I met a man by the name of Farl.’
 
‘Macmoyster Farl?’ asked George, amazed.
 
‘His father, Sebastian Farl. At this time two sisters were wooing American audiences with their spiritualist performances, clicking the joints of their toes to mimic replies from the deceased to those sad folk who sought their solace with them. Sebastian Farl mocked the two sisters – he recognised them at once as charlatans and he presented himself to me as one of the few true psychics upon the planet who could actually communicate with the dead. I could see that there was novelty to this act and that if presented as the only true Apocalyptical Examiner, he might become the very epitome of sensationalism. It was necessary, however, for me to test his claims in some way. Not necessarily to prove them genuine, you understand, but to see how convincing they appeared.’
 
‘And were you convinced?’ asked Professor Coffin. ‘And where, pray, is this leading?’
 
‘It is leading to me answering your enquiries.’ P. T. Barnum’s voice became shrill. ‘You demand answers from me and I feel compelled to supply them. You asked me to omit nothing, therefore allow me to tell my tale.’
 
George glanced towards Professor Coffin. There was something deeply wrong about all of this. It made George feel sick at heart and he felt that he wanted no more.
 
‘This is very important,’ Professor Coffin whispered to George, sensing all too well the young man’s concern. ‘This may not be altogether pleasant, but it is necessary. This is your fate, young George. This is of the utmost importance.’
 
George held his counsel and P. T. Barnum continued.
 
‘Sebastian Farl held a seance in the cabin on the edge of the Oregon Vortex and there I spoke with the spirits.’
 
‘The spirits of the dead?’ asked George, the hairs rising up on his arms.
 
‘So I was given to understand at the time and jolly convincing it was too. Sebastian Farl coined the term “channelling” to describe what he did. He “channelled the spirits”, but not of the dead, as I found out to my cost. All over the country, and indeed all over the world at the time, there were others such as Farl, each believing that they spoke with the dead. None of them actually charlatans, but none of them actually “channelling” the spirits of the dead.’
 
‘I fail to understand,’ said George. ‘They were communicating with something, but not the spirits of the dead?’
 
‘Correct,’ said P. T. Barnum. ‘They were communicating with beings from another world. They were communicating with the ecclesiastics of Venus.’
 
‘Oh,’ said George. ‘Is that true?’
 
‘True enough,’ said Mr Barnum. ‘But I did not know this until five years ago and by that time it was too late for me and too late for all of us, I fear.’
 
George glanced at the professor, who shrugged.
 
‘Shall we drink some more of that remarkable liquor of yours?’ asked the professor. ‘I have a feeling way deep down in my very bones that we might be needing it.’
 
‘Indeed you will,’ said the great showman, and he topped full the glasses all round. Sinking back into his chair he continued with his tale. The pain showed in his face as he spoke and the reasons were shortly apparent.
 
‘I myself was convinced that Farl was a genuine medium who spoke directly with the dead,’ Mr Barnum continued. ‘I asked him to communicate with my mother, ask her specific questions, the answers to which only she could provide. The answers he relayed to me were correct in every detail.’
 
‘Then he
did
speak with the dead,’ said George, most confused.
 
‘No,’ said Mr Barnum. ‘The answers were correct, but my dear mother was not dead at the time. She was brightly alive upon her homestead.’
 
‘It was a mind-reading act,’ said Professor Coffin. ‘I have observed such performances. They appear inexplicable, but the medium in fact gleans the required information from the client consulting them through unconscious gestures and body movements.’
 
‘You fail to understand,’ said P. T. Barnum. ‘As did I at the time. All is interconnected. All – the living, the dead, the folk of this planet and any other – all are part of a single entity. A world soul, a universal soul. The very soul of God.
 
‘I will tell you,’ Mr Barnum went on, ‘tell you what happened and what is to happen. I was obviously sceptical regarding Mr Farl’s performance. The replies were correct, yet my mother still lived. I engaged in further experimentation with him. He began to receive messages from an entity that named itself Hieronymous who issued Farl with a set of instructions to construct a mechanical contrivance that was to be a wishing machine. This machine was designed to perform a single function. Seek something precious that had been lost. Something of supreme importance. Something by the name of Sayito.
 
‘Sebastian Farl had now convinced himself, and myself also, I confess, that he was speaking directly to angels. This wishing machine was to be a kind of nineteenth-century version of the Ark of the Covenant. It would be the link between Mankind and Sayito—’

Other books

Keeper Of The Mountains by Bernadette McDonald
Under a Croatian Sun by Anthony Stancomb
Tempestades de acero by Ernst Jünger
Fool for Love by Marie Force
Cat's Cradle by Julia Golding
Gettin' Lucky by Micol Ostow
The Tale of Mally Biddle by M.L. LeGette
The German Fifth Column in Poland by Aleksandra Miesak Rohde
Twist by Dannika Dark
Continental Breakfast by Ella Dominguez